To The Grave And Back Again
by FirstDraft
Summary: "The truth doesn't exactly set you free, Phil." May helps Coulson deal with her discovery about TAHITI. Coulson/May (lots of friendship, some romance)
1. Chapter 1

Hello all

So this is my first MaoS fic, written a little bit quickly hot on the tail of NOTHING PERSONAL – I'm in the UK and so a little behind. Various versions of this story had been kicking around my head ever since TURN TURN TURN and Coulson flying off at May. I just wanted to get this out before RAGTAG and canon rips my fantasies to shreds. :-)

DISCLAIMER: I'm a bit worried there are some similarities to Alasse Fefalas' Stolen Memories – a little story I'm a fan of – but honestly, most of the below was written in my head before I read that story.

Feedback of any sort always appreciated – I'm somewhat sleep-depreived at the moment so no doubt there are a few typos etc that have escaped my proofreading, and I don't mind those pointed out, either...

Title based on Garrett's remark to May at the Hub as he was about to kill her, Coulson and Fitz... Yes, I know it's a bit rubbish.

SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SERIES 1 UP TO NOTHING PERSONAL

xxxxxx

TO THE GRAVE - AND BACK AGAIN

"Uh."

Coulson slumped back into his chair as the screen went dark. He could feel May's eyes on him but couldn't bring himself to look at her. Which was kind of odd, because moments before she'd turned on the laptop, when he'd stepped into his room and seen her standing there, it had taken quite a lot of self-control not to take her into his arms and squeeze the breath out of her. He was pretty sure his heart had actually skipped a beat: May was back and his world was suddenly a much better place to be. And after everything that had happened over the last week, he didn't think there was anything left to surprise him. How many other things was he utterly wrong about? He felt sick.

Behind him he heard May open a zip-up bag. There was the sound of a bottle cap being popped and, half a moment later, her hand appeared at his side with a tumbler of whisky in it.

"It's not the best but then this isn't exactly a celebration," she said.

Coulson took the glass and swallowed its content. "You're not wrong on either count," he said, grimacing. "Thanks."

He finally looked at her. She was leaning against the desk, her arms crossed, staring at the floor. But she turned to him when she sensed he was looking at her. Her expression was unwearyingly soft and kind. The impulse to bury himself in her arms returned stronger than ever but he pushed it aside. It was absurd. He wasn't that gawky young agent with a crush on his best friend anymore. He didn't know what he was these days but he definitely wasn't that.

What was it he had told Fitz? One step at a time.

Step 1 – find Ward and the drive.

Ah, no.

Step 1A – apologise to May.

"And thanks for coming back, too. I'm sorry about what I said. About everything."

"I never left you, Phil. I just wanted to find a way to make it up to you."

_Yeah. Thanks a lot. Definitely made my day_. He bit his tongue and cleared his throat, ignoring the slight narrowing of her eyes. One of these days it wouldn't surprise him to discover she could read minds. She could certainly read his.

"Are you back for good?" he asked then realised how he'd sounded. "I mean – sorry, I didn't mean it like _that_ – it's just that if you wanted a new line of work, Maria has gone Stark crazy."

May snorted. "This has never been something I've done for money, so the private sector's not for me."

"Are you sure? Because pay's got kinda crappy. In fact I'm not sure there's any. And forget a dental plan."

"I'll start flossing more."

His heart skipped a beat again. "Ok. Well, I was going to go through some files I found in Providence, if you want to have a look. We need to find a way to get our drive back from Ward –"

"How was Portland?"

"Skye said –" He stopped and blinked. "What?"

"How was Portland?"

Why on earth was she asking him about Portland? She'd have to know he wouldn't want to talk about it. "About as much fun as you'd think. You didn't miss much. But we got him."

"And Audrey?"

_Why?_ Coulson wondered again. Maybe she was in fact still angry with him. He couldn't blame her. She could have flung a dozen _I Told You So_s at his face. With a deep breath he got up and poured himself another glass, before taking his laptop out of his bag. "She was fine."

"Did you speak to her?"

He was tired. And today he'd had to run away from the US army and had driven Lola off the Bus mid-air and nearly got himself and Skye pancaked. That was the only reason he could think of for the way his temper was rising. "Yes, I did," he replied. "She was very understanding about the whole thing, especially the part where I'm half a Smurf and a wanted fugitive."

"So you didn't speak to her."

"Why are you asking me this, Mel? I don't want to talk about it. Of all people, you should get that."

"I do get that. Which is why I also know you have to talk about it."

He took off his jacket and threw it on the bed. "Fine. There's nothing much to talk about anyway. No, I didn't speak to her. What would have been the point? Oh, hey Audrey – so you know how HYDRA have taken over S.H.I.E.L.D. and I've been working for a bunch of Nazis all these years – well, it also turns I was brought back from the dead through dubious experimental surgery with a sprinkling of alien pixie dust and that the person I trusted most in the world knew about it and was spying on me in case I turned into some kind of psychotic mutant. And now - as a PS on our next phone call, that one - it also turns out that one of my team is a traitor and a murderer. And that I - **I** inflicted all sorts of pain on God knows who or how many – and believe me, I know exactly what kind of pain we're talking about here. Fancy a movie Friday night this time next never?"

They stared at each other. He realised he'd been shouting, and that he'd spilled his drink all over himself. He looked down at the stains on his shirt and suddenly felt sick again. He mumbled an apology and stumbled into the bathroom, nearly slamming the door behind him.

xxxxx

She heard him retch a couple of times, and then be sick.

It was nice, how glad he'd been to see her. To an outside observer Coulson wouldn't have looked particularly moved, but it was there for her to see, plain as day, in the way he had stopped mid-step and his shoulders had loosened. May hadn't been sure what his reaction was going to be and when he'd seemed so happy, it had taken a lot of resolve to go through with what she'd come to do, because he was not going to stay happy for long, and she would once again have been the cause of his pain.

His reaction, however, was not quite how she'd expected it to be. Calm, yes – but too calm. She could see what he was doing: he was busy putting things in boxes in his head, compartmentalising, so they wouldn't bother him. Coulson had always been very good at doing that – that was what made him a brilliant tactician and quite unflappable - but now that the truth was out, denial would be counter-productive. She knew that from bitter experience. And she'd known that she wouldn't be able to take Fortress Coulson with a full frontal assault. She'd needed to find a weak spot and blow it wide open. Portland had to be it. The cellist.

It'd been hard listening to him talk about Audrey before he'd died and good, too, because he had been happy. But there had been clouds in that blue sky. Audrey had moved back to Portland. May had a feeling she had wanted more than he could give.

Regrets were the hardest things to live with. Certainly they were for May.

After a moment, the toilet was flushed and the tap flowing; he was washing his hands and brushing his teeth. When Coulson came back out, he looked bone-weary and, for the first time in her life, defeated. She hated herself for making him go through this but she had always believed you had to do right by your friends, whether they liked it or not. As for the people you were actually in love with...

He sat on the edge of the bed. "When is it going to end, Mel? What - who - else are we going to lose?" She sat next to him; then, with a little hesitation, she reached for his hand and slipped her fingers through his. Coulson looked at her. "Why are you still here? When you know what you know about me?"

There was no way she could give him a _full_ answer to that question. But even a partial one was still true. "You've answered your own question. Because I know what I know about you."

"But I'm no better than Raina, or Centipede. How many people were experimented on? How many did I put through that? How could I do it? How -"

"You are nothing like Centipede, Phil!" she cut him off. "Whatever happened, these people could not have hoped for a better person to look after their interests, or their dignity - and you resigned. You were going to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. over this. You were still doing the right thing."

"It's not just that, Mel. We nearly didn't get Daniels in Portland - because S.H.I.E.L.D. had experimented on him and made him stronger. And we can't blame it all on HYDRA elements. Fury was not HYDRA and he allowed that- and T.A.H.I.T.I. - to happen. What's the point of it all now?" He let go of her hand and started to pace up and down the room. "I guess you were right. I wanted the truth and now I've got it. Careful what you wish for, uh?"

"So, what are you saying? That you're suddenly giving up?"

"How can I? With Ward and Garrett and HYDRA still out there?"

May stopped his pacing. "So what difference does it make?"

"What difference – Mel! I've given my life to S.H.I.E.L.D., literally and otherwise. And it was a lie. But you were right about that, too. It's over."

She grasped her face in his hands so he would see the truth of what she was about to say in her eyes. "No. No. I think I was scared because it was all happening so fast, and all I could think about was the fact that you thought I was a traitor, and suddenly you looked a really long way from me. But I was _wrong_. You – or we - don't need S.H.I.E.L.D. to do what's right. You said it. You're not giving up. And neither am I. And that's the only thing that matters. S.H.I.E.L.D. is an idea, Phil. An _ideal_. You know that, or you wouldn't have lived your life the way you have. We don't need a badge. We just need each other."

There was silence.

"I think this is the most you've said to me in a long time," he finally managed. His expression changed to something both more familiar, like the Phil Coulson of old, and more foreign – at least coming from him. She felt a quickening of his pulse under her fingers, his hands cover her own, and saw the dilation of his pupils. And she felt herself respond in kind.

Then he cleared his throat and stepped back from her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not quite myself at the moment."

May ignored what he was saying – that if he was himself, he wouldn't have stood there wanting to kiss her – and listened to the part of her that had come out howling to play when she'd held the berserker staff in her hand. Because contrary to appearances, recent events had taken her toll on her, too, and she was due a freak-out.

"I think you've never been closer to who you are, Phil," she whispered, grasping his forearm and pulling him gently towards her. He didn't resist, and his mouth welcomed hers just the way she hoped.

He broke away from her again, but held her close against him, their foreheads resting against each other. "I don't know if this is a good idea, Mel. I want to, believe me –"

"There's nothing wrong with taking comfort in your friends." He flinched and she could have kicked herself. She should have realised what he'd be thinking of. "It isn't like it was with Ward, Phil. Not with you and me - never. What I did with him, it was to forget. This –" she took his hand in hers again – "this is to remember."

"So you never felt anything for him? Really?"

Phil Coulson was an exceptional man, but he was still a man. A part of him clearly hadn't been able to truly believe she could separate sex from emotion. But maybe she was being unfair. He'd never been one for one night stands – too much of an old-fashioned romantic for that.

"Really," she murmured, kissing his jaw, then the corner of his mouth.

"Good." It was gratifying to hear him say that, but she didn't have the time to wonder whether it was relief her feelings hadn't been hurt, or jealousy. He tilted his head and kissed her, and then there was nothing remotely romantic about the way his hands were clutching at her under her shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello all

So this is my first MaoS fic, written a little bit quickly hot on the tail of NOTHING PERSONAL – I'm in the UK and so a little behind. Various versions of this story had been kicking around my head ever since TURN TURN TURN and Coulson flying off at May. I just wanted to get this out before RAGTAG and canon rips my fantasies to shreds. :-)

DISCLAIMER: I'm a bit worried there are some similarities to Alasse Fefalas' Stolen Memories – a little story I'm a fan of – but honestly, most of the below was written in my head before I read that story.

Feedback of any sort always appreciated – I'm somewhat sleep-depreived at the moment so no doubt there are a few typos etc that have escaped my proofreading, and I don't mind those pointed out, either...

Title based on Garrett's remark to May at the Hub as he was about to kill her, Coulson and Fitz... Yes, I know it's a bit rubbish.

SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SERIES 1 UP TO NOTHING PERSONAL

xxxxx

TO THE GRAVE - AND BACK AGAIN

May stretched next to him, taking deep breaths in a way that he found very fetching. His own breathing was a lot more erratic.

"You'd think with all this alien stuff, I'd at least get some kind of super power. Or, you know, not the stamina of a middle-aged man."

"Are you fishing for compliments, Agent Coulson?"

He chuckled. It was strange, how easy it had been. How easy it felt now. It should have felt awkward – shouldn't it? When two friends sleep together? There had been no awkwardness – save that between two people who didn't know each other's ways as lovers – and just... her. Them, together.

She propped herself up on an elbow. "Your last physical evaluation was fine but I've been telling you for a while your breathing technique is poor."

"Oh – OUCH. Slain." She chuckled in turn and he smiled at her, delighted he had been able to do that for her. "I want to say thank you, but that sounds... kinda weird."

"It is. But thank you, too." She kissed his cheek, then traced the scars on his chest. "Does it ever hurt there?" she asked softly.

"Sometimes I think I can feel something. But I never know whether I'm just imagining it. There's a lot I don't know anymore."

"I'm sorry you had to hear all of that from me."

He shook his head. "Don't be. I think I'd rather have heard it from you than anyone else."

"Do you... do you understand why I did what I did now? Keeping it all from you?"

"You were trying to protect me, yeah," he replied, squeezing her hand on his chest. "I know."

"It wasn't just because of what could happen if you regained your memory, or if something went wrong." She paused and he could see she was finding it difficult to continue. "The truth doesn't exactly set you free, Phil. It's just that denial is worse. I know everyone thinks denial is what I do – that I'm the Ice Queen, all emotions shut down. But that's not true. I told Ward this, when he asked me how I stayed in control with the berserker staff. It took me a long time after Bahrain... but I finally accepted what had happened. What it meant." She paused again. He wanted to ask her exactly what that was but it wasn't the time or the place. Instead he pulled her to him so she was lying flushed against him, her legs entangled with his. "The _truth_ of it, I guess. But I'm not a better person for it. I'm just who I am now. And I guess, if I have to be really honest, that I didn't want you to go through that kind of suffering. If someone came to me and offered to make me forget Bahrain... I'm pretty sure I would take it."

"Mel..."

"I'm not brave like you. But I understand now it was wrong. It was selfish."

Coulson pulled back a little and lifted her chin so she was looking at him, as she had done for him earlier. "How can you say that? You're the bravest woman I know."

"When it comes to rooms full of guns and death, maybe." May sat up next to him, arms wrapped around her knees. "Have you been wondering why Fury did this to you, Phil? Why he put you through that when he would have known how against it you were?"

"Only every minute I've not been thinking about HYDRA."

"I can't know for sure, of course, and I never asked him when I had the chance. But I don't think you realise how... special you are." He tried to interrupt but she didn't let him. "Some people say that Captain America is just about what was done to him. That if anyone had that kind of super abilities, they would be heroes, too. We both know that's not true. That Steve Rodgers was already a hero when he was a sickly, skinny kid. There's something else people say. That our line of work means making tough calls. Sacrifices, compromises. And it's true. But it's even a lot harder to stick to what's right, no matter the cost. And that's what you do, time after time. Why do you think you can call a demi-God a friend?"

He frowned and sat up, too. "What are you driving at?"

"There aren't many people like you in the world, Phil. I'd bet Fury knew that, and he wasn't willing to lose you, just like he wouldn't have wanted to lose one of his Avengers."

Coulson had no idea what to say. He was very good at his job, he knew that. He had been lucky _a lot_, too – many times, to make it this long and this far. But what May was saying now... he couldn't bring himself to believe it. The man she was talking about – he wouldn't have worked on T.A.H.I.T.I. And he couldn't believe he deserved to live any more than whoever had suffered through the experiments that had ensured his own survival.

"But the others, Mel..." he whispered. "It isn't fair."

"No," she whispered back. "It probably isn't. But it is what it is. And you're a good man, Phil. And it isn't your fault that you're still alive."

He looked at her, and he understood. Of course – Bahrain. "Survivor's guilt?" She nodded. "Jesus, Mel, I'm sorry – to drag you through that –"

"You didn't. It's fine."

"Please tell me it has gotten better for you. Not for my sake – just... for you."

May smiled a little. "It has, thanks. But it's not over."

"Come here, and keep telling me how special I am."

They slipped back under the sheets and May snuggled against him again, needling him about how he still wasn't as cool as Tony Stark, and then she asked about how the rest of the team were faring, until they fell into a comfortable silence. He felt more at peace than he had in a long time. It wasn't over – he had no illusions on the matter, she was right about that – but for now he felt as though everything made a little more sense again, even the bad stuff. And he had Melinda May to thank for that.

If someone had told him he would end the day in bed with her, he would have checked them for concussion: what had come over him? He and May had been close for a long time – there'd even been a time when it had looked like they could have got closer still, like tonight. And when he thought she'd betrayed him - he had never felt such anger. No, anger wasn't the word. Rage. It had been easy to shoot her with the Icer; if he had to be honest, it had felt good – a chance to hurt her without really hurting her.

And tonight - one moment they were talking, and the next... Was it just a question of any port in a storm? He couldn't imagine doing anything like this with Skye (the thought made him queasy; he had no idea what it felt like to be a father, but he knew that was the closest thing to his feelings towards her), or Simmons (more or less ditto). No, it was definitely something else. He'd wanted _something_ from her from the moment he'd seen her standing in his room. He still didn't know what it was, except that suddenly he was wanting it again.

"Stop thinking, Phil," May teased.

"How do you know I'm thinking anything? You can't even see my face."

"I can hear you think, the grinding of the gears is that loud." Then one of her hands trailed a path south of his stomach, and her voice became huskier and his throat dryer. "And this is a bit of giveaway."

"At least they're pleasant thoughts, right?" he croaked.

"Why don't you share them?"

He did, but not with words.

xxxxx

She woke up a little bit before dawn to find him lying flat on his stomach, one foot dangling over the edge of the bed and snoring gently into a pillow. It was hard not to smile: May had forgotten he was a messy sleeper. It was hard, too to resist the temptation to smooth his hair back into place or to lie back next to him, but she needed to go; she'd only stayed after the second time because he had asked her to. And she couldn't imagine ever saying no to Phil Coulson.

Now, however, she really did have to go. Last night he had really wanted to be with her, something she hadn't expected and it had been wonderful, but they had to go back to the job in hand. As much as she loved him, it had to take precedence and she didn't want the distraction of hope. Phil loved her in his own way, she knew that much, and not long ago she had thought she had lost him altogether only to be closer to him than ever. It was enough.

Besides, she had something else to look forward to: getting her hands on Ward and Garrett. She'd meant it when she'd told Phil he was a good man. May was neither, and she didn't plan on taking prisoners.

xxxxx

So there you go. No, at this point I'm not sure Coulson is in love with May – or rather, he doesn't realise he is, his head being full of HYDRA, betrayal, alien-fuelled resurrection and so on... But he'll get there. ;-)


End file.
